


Little Saucepan

by batastrophe



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, JONES Diana Wynne - Works
Genre: Children, F/M, Marriage, Rugby, Wales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:49:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batastrophe/pseuds/batastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-Shot. Sophie has always wondered what Calcifer's "silly saucepan song" was really about. When Howl manages to procure tickets to a rugby match in Wales, and insists that Sophie and Morgan come along, she finally gets an opportunity. Watch as Sophie puzzles out the various mysteries of Wales and rugby, and learns that even the silliest of songs can have the sweetest of meanings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Saucepan

**Author's Note:**

> **This story takes place after the events of all three Howl books, sometime after the events of _House of Many Ways_. It's not really necessary to have read the second two books, however, and it doesn't contain any spoilers for them (other than the existence of Morgan, which I suppose could be a pretty big spoiler, in a way). I'm thinking that Morgan is about 3-4 years old here.**
> 
> **And in the words of Diana Wynne Jones herself: "A typical day in the life of Howl and Sophie? Well, there would be at least two quarrels, one violent argument, and an explosion of strange magic."**

"Sophie, I've wonderful news!"

Sophie snapped up from where she'd been mopping the floor in time to see the front door slam shut, black side down, and her husband standing proudly in front of it.

"Howl, look what you've made me do!" He'd startled her when he'd burst through the door and she'd sloshed soapy water down her skirt. She shot him a withering look as she bent to sop up the mess.

Howl glanced at her, raising one eyebrow. "I come home to announce that I've got brilliant news and this is the welcome I get? I tell you, I'm never appreciated around here."

Sophie snorted and turned to her soggy clothes. "Come now, dress," she said, "It's shameful the way you're dripping. Be dry!" Her dress gave a gentle billow and then settled itself, perfectly dry again. She turned back to Howl with a retort but he was already bounding up the stairs.

"Now where's my little man?" he called "Dad's got an exciting surprise!"

Something exciting for Morgan? Wondered Sophie. That sounded ominous.

She finished up the mopping, wondering mildly what plan Howl had up his sleeve this time. She could hear thumps and laughing shouts coming from the nursery upstairs as Howl chased Morgan around the room, much to Morgan's delight. After a few minutes Howl reappeared coming down the stairs, Morgan dangling from his arms like a monkey. "Look what I found, Sophie," said Howl conversationally. "I couldn't find Morgan anywhere. Instead I found this strapping lad masquerading in his place."

"No, dad! It's me—me!" Morgan laughed out.

"No!" said Howl, in mock surprise. "You're far too grown up to be my Morgan! What have you done with him?"

Sophie set aside her work and smiled at them. It was difficult to remain angry when the boys were having this much fun. Sophie intercepted Morgan as he came racing around the corner and swung him up onto her hip. "Hmmm," she said, surveying her child. "You might be right. He does seem rather bigger than he did at breakfast." Morgan giggled uncontrollably as Howl came and wrapped his arms around both of them. He leaned over Morgan's head to give Sophie a kiss.

"You're all so adorable it's nearly disgusting," said Calcifer, zooming down through the chimney. "And if you want any dinner you'd better start cooking. I'm not a patient fire demon."

* * *

"So," said Sophie, "what exactly is this 'wonderful news' you've been going on about?" The three of them were settled down for dinner with Calcifer crackling amiably in the grate.

"Ah, I don't think I'll tell you now," said Howl. "You weren't exactly keen on finding out half an hour ago." He returned his attention to his plate, where he carefully scraped the remains of his meal onto his fork. Sophie clenched her teeth against the sound the cutlery made upon the plate. Howl then lifted the fork to his mouth and slowly chewed, staring Sophie down as he did. She narrowed her eyes and glared back. He was clearly trying to pique her curiosity, but for once Sophie felt she had the upper hand.

"Well, tell me now or don't tell me at all then," she said, standing. "It can't be all that wonderful if you're going to sit on it like that." She began to collect the dishes.

" _I_ want to know, dad!" said Morgan loudly. "Tell me! Tell _me_!"

"Oh, fine!" Howl said, grabbing her shoulders and sitting her down again. Sophie crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "My news is," he said, reaching into his pocket, "that I've gotten us tickets to the rugby final in Wales." He said the last bit in a rush and whipped his hand out of his pocket, brandishing a couple shiny slips of paper. He was grinning broadly and looking excitedly at Sophie.

She stared back at him, nonplussed. "You look like Morgan did the first time we brought him into Cesari's," she remarked and stood, gathering the dishes once more as Calcifer snorted sparks from the fireplace.

"Sophie, Sophie, you don't _understand_ ," said Howl, springing up. "It's the rugby _final_. It's the biggest match in rugby for the whole year, and Wales is playing in it! We've got to go!"

"And how exactly did you procure tickets to this…this final?" she queried from the kitchen. "I don't even fully understand what you're talking about, you know."

"I got them from Megan," he said, as though this would explain everything.

"Dad—dad, are we going? Are we going to see an actual game?" said Morgan, who was dancing between their legs. Howl had often talked about the sport to Morgan, but Morgan had yet to see a game.

"Of course we're going, Morgan!" said Howl happily as he swung Morgan up onto his hip. He looked over at Sophie, who was elbow deep in soap suds and giving him one of her best glares. "Well, that is if your mother agrees," he amended. Howl and Morgan were both staring at her with their best puppy-dog faces. Sophie rolled her eyes and shook her soapy arms out over the sink.

"I wish you'd explain something properly for once, Howl!"

"Like I said, the tickets are from Megan. I was visiting in to see Neil and Mari today—it's Neil birthday, you know. And it turns out that Megan had gotten him tickets to the final as a surprise, but last night he came down with the worst case of the flu she's ever seen."

"You better not have brought it home to Morgan," Sophie said.

"Of course I haven't, I did a sanitation spell before I came in the door. So Neil is clearly too sick to go, and Megan's got to stay home to take care of him and Mari, so she can't go either. And Gareth's away on business the whole week," Howl said happily. "So I volunteered to take the tickets so as they wouldn't go to waste. They're rather expensive, being for the final and all."

Sophie snorted. "You're about the most selfish uncle I've ever met, you know that?"

"Selfish?" Howl spluttered. "Hardly. You and I both know it's not right to cure an illness using magic. Remember when I suffered through that impenetrable cold? I nearly died, but did I use magic?" Sophie snorted again. "It's much better to let the body sort through these things naturally. And what was I supposed to do, let the tickets go unused? Sophie, it's the _final game_ ," Howl said meaningfully. " _And Wales is playing_. And it'll be Morgan's first match. He's got to start learning what the game's all about at some point, or he'll never make it on a team."

"And when exactly is Morgan going to be playing on a team? We don't play rugby in Ingary."

"Sophie, Morgan is a child of two worlds. You can't expect me to deny him half his culture," he said matter-of-factly.

Sophie raised her eyebrows skeptically. She didn't even want to start thinking about Morgan running from rugby practices in one world to magic lessons in another. She'd have that argument another day, when Morgan was older. "So am I supposed to believe that Megan just handed these tickets to you out of the goodness of her heart?" she asked, changing tack. "I hardly think that's likely."

Howl shifted Morgan's weight on his hip and looked at the wall somewhere over Sophie's left shoulder. "Well, I offered to make it up to Neil with a different gift...And I may have volunteered us to do some babysitting for Megan in return," he added in a rush.

" _Us_?" cried Sophie. "This is _your_ rugby final! I'm not going!"

"What?" said Howl. He looked genuinely surprised. "Of course you're coming, Sophie. I've got enough tickets."

"Oh Howl, I haven't got a clue what rugby even is. You can take Morgan and have a grand time. I'd be a nuisance!"

"No you wouldn't! I'll explain it! Come on, Sophie, it'll be a family outing. You, me, and Morgan. We don't do enough family stuff together."

"Unless you count gate-crashing the King of High Norland," she retorted.

"That was different! This will be a proper family outing. Come on! Don't you want to find out what rugby's like? Goodness knows you hear me talk about it enough." He was trying to pique her curiosity again. She hated it when he did that, especially because he was usually right. She _did_ want to learn more about Wales; it was a source of constant intrigue for her.

"I think you should go, Sophie," piped in Calcifer. "It could be interesting. And you can tell me about it when you get back, since I can't go to Wales. Howl never bothers to tell me about Wales." Calcifer shifted in the grate as he gave Howl a critical look, causing a log to hiss.

Sophie looked at each of the boy's faces. Calcifer looked rueful, Morgan looked like he was ready to burst with excitement, and Howl was wearing his most aggravating and inviting half-smile. "Oh, fine," she relented. "But if I find out you've only brought me along to babysit Morgan or something, well, you'll never hear the end of it!"

* * *

Sophie was beginning to regret her curiosity. They were outside of a massive building, which Howl called a "stadium," surrounded by the largest crowd Sophie had ever seen, bigger even than the square at Market Chipping on May Day. On top of all that, they'd had to ride in that awful horseless carriage, and for far longer than they had the last time she'd been in one. It hadn't helped that Howl had insisted on strapping Morgan into a bizarre miniature seat, which Sophie had absolutely no confidence in.

"I'd feel much safer holding him in my lap," she'd said uneasily as Howl buckled their child into the device.

"Trust me, Sophie, car seats are far safer than a mother's arms if we get into a crash."

"A crash?" Sophie paled. "Are you really sure it's necessary to take the horseless carriage—"

"—car, Sophie, it's called a car—"

"Bother what it's called, you just said we might crash in it!"

Howl straightened up from where he'd been bent over Morgan and looked Sophie in the eyes. "We are not going to get in a crash, Sophie. They're a rare thing. Besides, I'll be driving. I know I'll have your complete confidence."

Sophie hadn't felt very confident at all and had clung to the edges of her seat while periodically craning over her shoulder to check on Morgan. After what felt like hours, they finally arrived at the "stadium" and climbed out of the horrible contraption and into a throng of people who all seemed to be dressed in scarlet and white. In fact, she, Howl, and Morgan were also wearing scarlet and white, at Howl's insistence. She had never been a fan of Welsh-style clothing and she flatly refused to wear trousers and she couldn't get over the feeling that her skirt was far too short. It was all very uncomfortable.

Howl, on the other hand, was in his element. He'd been humming Calcifer's saucepan song for nearly the entire journey and had just scooped up Morgan and perched him on top of his shoulders. He reached out and took Sophie's hand, giving it a squeeze. She smiled weakly up at him. Despite how overwhelmed she felt, she also felt a certain amount of excitement. Here she was, in another world. It was a bit thrilling. She wondered how simply holding his hand gave her so much confidence. She squeezed back.

From somewhere in the crowd Sophie could hear singing. She looked over her shoulder to see a group of young men, perhaps a little younger than Howl, singing boisterously. "Howl!" she said, turning back to him, "They're singing that saucepan song!"

"Well, of course they are. We're at the rugby final." He said it as though it were obvious. It maddened her when he did that. Seeing her annoyance, he continued, "Didn't I ever tell you, Sophie? "Sosban Fach" is practically the anthem for Welsh rugby. We even call the team Sosban Fach sometimes. Everyone who supports Wales will be singing it today. I daresay there'll even be a band."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I always thought it was about saucepans."

Howl gave her a slightly bemused look. "Of course it's about saucepans, Sophie, that's the whole point of the song." Seeing she still looked rather lost, he explained, "The little one is on the fire and the big one is on the floor. Your finger is hurting, the baby's crying, and the servant is ill. But the servant dies in the second verse—"

"Howl, what has any of that got to do with rugby?" Sophie exclaimed, exasperated.

Howl blinked. Then he started laughing. "Nothing at all, really! Oh Sophie! You'll tear everything apart with your questions. Saucepans! Ha!"

Sophie rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Oh, forget the dratted saucepans then. Tell me how this silly game of yours works anyways."

Saucepans forgotten, Howl launched into a detailed explanation of his favorite sport as they made their way through the ticket taker and toward their seats. Sophie found she understood about half of what Howl was explaining to her. The basic concept—get the ball to the other end to earn points—that was clear. It was all the little details, like what caused a foul and how those were taken care of, that she got mixed up on. But she didn't bother to stop and ask for clarification. She figured she'd learn by watching, or not learn at all.

By the time Howl was about halfway done with his explanation, they found themselves at their seats. He hoisted Morgan down from riding on his shoulders and placed the toddler on his lap. "Can you see?" he asked Morgan, bending his head down next to Morgan's ear. Morgan nodded. "Right, then. Tell me if you can't see and I'll lift you up again, alright?"

True to Howl's prediction, there was a band. They were slowly making their way around the field, playing a number of songs which the crowd around them was singing with gusto. Howl would periodically lean over to Sophie and explain the Welsh lyrics to her.

"Calon Lân!" he said as the band began a new tune. "You'll like this one, Sophie, it's about only wanting a happy heart—"

"Howl," Sophie interrupted. "What is _that_?" She was pointing toward the band, which had circled round below where they were sitting.

"That's a marching band, love."

"No, not the band. _That_!" Sophie was pointing to the front of the band, where a man in a red coat and white hat was leading a goat on a tether. The goat was wearing a rather ridiculous headdress.

"Goat!" shouted Morgan. Indeed, a lot of people around them seemed to be cheering on the goat.

"Oh, _that_!" Howl laughed. "That's the regimental goat!" Once again Sophie felt rather put out that there was some joke she didn't understand by virtue of not being Welsh.

"First saucepans and now a regimental goat?" she asked. "Your people have quite a few strange traditions, Howl."

"Indeed we do, love," he said. "The regimental goat. Well…it's a goat that belongs to the regiment." Sophie raised an eyebrow. "It's…" Howl floundered, "It's a bit hard to explain. I'm not even totally sure of the explanation myself. The army regiment has always had a goat. It's at all the Welsh games." Howl shrugged, a lopsided grin plastered on his face.

"So many things about you are beginning to be explained, Howl," said Sophie, rolling her eyes and giving him a half-smile of her own. Morgan bounced up and down on his father's lap, clapping at the sight of the goat.

"Not from Wales, are you?" Sophie jumped. An older fellow sitting in front of them had turned around. "Sorry, couldn't help overhearing."

"No," she said cautiously.

The man nodded, unsurprised. "As long as you're supporting Wales, I don't care where you come from! To answer your question, the Welsh regiments have had goats since the days of Queen Victoria. That one there's named Shenkin." He nodded at Sophie and turned back around.

Sophie could barely contain her laughter. "Howl, the goat's name in Jenkins! It's perfect!"

Howl frowned down at the goat as Sophie cackled. "See? This is why we go by Pendragon. It's far more respectable."

Howl's enthusiasm couldn't be dampened for long though. The band began to strike up another tune, one that was familiar to Sophie.

"Come on, Sophie! It's "Sosban Fach!" Even you've got it practically memorized!" Howl jumped up with other members of the crowd as they began lustily singing:

_Mae bys Meri-Ann wedi brifo, A Dafydd y gwas ddim yn iach. Hoy! Hoy!_

"Come on, Sophie, at least sing the 'hoy hoys!'" cried Howl as the song moved into the familiar chorus.

_Sosban fach yn berwi ar y tân, Sosban fawr yn berwi ar y llawr,_

_A'r gath wedi sgrapo Joni bach._

Howl held Morgan up by his arms, dancing him around to the time of the music as Morgan laughed riotously. The whole crowd was singing at the top of their lungs, and a few people were even harmonizing. Despite what Howl said, Sophie had never gotten a hang of all the words for the song. The Welsh always seemed to slip off her tongue. But she supposed she could join the spirit of it.

_Mae bys Meri-Ann wedi gwella, A Dafydd y gwas yn ei fedd._

"Hoy! Hoy!" cried Sophie. Howl grinned broadly at her.

_Mae'r baban yn y crud wedi tyfu, A'r gath wedi huno mewn hedd._

"Hoy! Hoy!" shouted the crowd.

_Sosban fach yn berwi ar y tân, Sosban fawr yn berwi ar y llawr,_

_A'r gath wedi sgrapo Joni bach._

"Now you'll love the next part, it's in English," Howl said quickly between lines. The crowd sang:

_Who beat the All Blacks? Who beat the All Blacks?_

_Who beat the All Blacks? But good old Sosban Fach!_

Sophie joined in.

* * *

Against all odds, Sophie found she was actually enjoying herself. When Howl wasn't totally absorbed by what was happening on the field, he was chatting away with her or with Morgan. It seemed to be the way of things. Everyone always had one eye on the game, but it turned out the whole thing was rather social. Except, of course, when everyone would jump up at once and start roaring if Wales was about to score (or to shout angrily if things went the other way). At times like those, all conversation was put on hold. The crowd would also periodically shout out cheers in unison, and sometimes burst into song when Wales scored points.

Everything was going well until the opposing team tied up the score. There was a collective groan from the onlookers. "What's happened?" asked Sophie.

Howl was too busy shouting that something ought to have been a foul, so Sophie repeated her question. "We're nearly at full-time!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the scoreboard. "We would have won if that bloody referee—"

"Howl, don't swear in front of Morgan!"

"Well the point is we would have won just now if the referee knew how to do his job!" Howl shouted the last bit toward the field. In fact, quite a few spectators were shouting abuse toward the field, not all of it entirely appropriate. "Now we've got to go into extra time!"

Sophie sighed. Truth be told, she was getting rather worn out. All the noise and sunlight was beginning to tire her. Morgan too, by the look of it. He'd been transferred into Sophie's lap mid-way through the game because Howl kept jumping up to shout at the field. He was leaning his head sleepily against Sophie's chest as the game entered its last period of extra time. "Mum," he said, turning his face toward her. "Mum, I've hafta _go_."

Sophie sighed and tugged Howl's sleeve. "What?" he asked, somewhat annoyed at the interruption.

"Morgan needs the bathroom."

"Now?" he said somewhat hysterically. "Oh, Sophie, can't you take him?" He was already staring raptly back at the field.

"I don't know the way!" she said. It was true. The whole layout of the place was inherently confusing to her, and she had no doubt that if she left their seats she would never find her way back to them. All the entries looked suspiciously alike and there seemed to be an identical stand selling beer and various greasy foods every thirty feet.

Howl sighed, exasperated. "Oh, just wait a moment, Morgan! Can't you do that for me? Wait a moment!" Sophie rolled her eyes and Morgan whimpered softly.

"Just a couple minutes, love, do you think you can manage it?" Sophie murmured.

"I'll try," said Morgan, sounding doubtful.

"Howl, if this child wets himself it'll be squarely your fault."

But Howl wasn't listening. His eyes were glued to the field for the remainder of the extra time, where despite the efforts of both sides, no one had scored. By now there was just under a minute left on the clock. "Oh, this is torture!" Howl moaned. "They may have to go into sudden death! That never happens!"

"And if you'd taken Morgan to the toilet twenty minutes ago, you would've been able to watch it anyways!" said Sophie irritably. Howl barely heard her. She could tell he'd really forgotten himself by the way he was pulling at his hair, heedless to how it disturbed the style. "Oh, this is ridiculous! Hurry up and win already!" She said it toward the field, unthinkingly.

Sophie gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Wales scored.

The crowd around them erupted.

Howl turned around to face Sophie, wide-eyed. She squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed, her hand still pressed over her mouth. Howl would be angry, she was sure of it. She couldn't face him.

"Now you've really done it!" he said. Sophie felt Howl grab her hand down from her mouth and his hands press against her cheeks. She opened her eyes cautiously.

Howl was grinning ear to ear. "Sophie, you're brilliant!" And the next thing she knew he was kissing her.

"Mmmmhph!" she said, and then pushed Howl away. "I didn't think!" she cried, and then, "You're not angry?"

"Me? Not at all. Although," he said, "come to think of it, we should probably make a quick exit."

"Dad, I need to _go_!" Morgan cried. He was still sitting on Sophie's lap, his hands pressed against his crotch. He really looked quite miserable.

"Ah," said Howl, "so you do. Come on now!" He grabbed Sophie's hand and they began jostling past the cheering press of spectators. None of them seemed quite inclined to leave just yet, nor were they very appreciative of Howl, Sophie, and Morgan forcing their way through.

"Howl—Howl! Slow down!" said Sophie as she bumped into a portly man holding a tin of beer. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry!" she said as the beer sloshed down his front. Before he could reply, Howl gave an insistent tug to her arm and she stumbled down the row across another five people. Finally, they had made it into the aisle and were running up the stairs.

"Excuse us, sorry, we've got a child in urgent need of the toilet," said Howl as he shoved his way in between a couple of sweethearts, who until then had been clasping hands. "Terribly sorry, pardon me!"

"Howl, we don't need to go so fast!" said Sophie, panting to catch up. "Morgan can wait a few more moments!"

"Actually Sophie, we're not running to the bathroom, we're running to the car. Magic may not be commonplace in Wales, but I daresay there'll be a few people who will notice that the rugby final was just magicked into conclusion."

"Oh!" she said, her face flushing red. "I'm sorry, Howl, I'm a fool!"

"Not at all," said Howl. "You're a genius!"

"But I made them cheat!" she cried. "And that doesn't sit right with me at all!"

"Come now, Sophie, Wales would have pulled through in the end without your help. You just encouraged them."

"You don't know that at all, Howl!"

They rushed through the exit and into the car park. Howl fished his keys out of his pocket, wrenched open the door and grabbed Morgan out of Sophie's arms.

"Dad! I—need—to— _GO_!" Morgan was crying in earnest now.

"Hush, little man, we'll get you taken care of in no time!" said Howl, buckling him in.

If Sophie had thought riding in the car had been unsettling before, she was not at all prepared for the experience when Howl was actually trying to move quickly. They took the bend around the corner so fast that she thought she'd left her stomach behind in the car park. "Please slow down!" she managed to squeak.

"Sophie, I'm barely above the limit. I wouldn't really drive like a maniac with Morgan ready to burst in the backseat, would I?" Nevertheless, he slowed the car somewhat. "We should be alright now that we're out of the stadium, anyways. Let's find somewhere for Morgan, shall we?" He drove along at a more sedate pace as Sophie dug her fingernails into the upholstery. "Now this looks ideal," he said as he turned off the road toward a pub. "Morgan will get a toilet, I'll get some lunch, and Sophie can wait for her stomach to catch up." Normally Sophie would have given him a scathing glare for that, but at the moment she felt a bit too queasy to react properly.

Howl parked the car and went around the back to unbuckle Morgan. He came round the side and opened Sophie's door, but she just sat, her hands still clenched around the seat, breathing somewhat more shallowly than usual. Morgan was squirming uncontrollably. "Right," said Howl. "I'll take him in then. Erm…just come in when you're feeling better?" Sophie jerked her head in a quick nod, still staring ahead. "Right," said Howl. "Let's get you taken care of, little man."

* * *

A few minutes later, when she was feeling a bit more herself, Sophie came into the pub. She looked around, but didn't see Howl or Morgan anywhere. Sophie wrung her hands, feeling lost and realizing just how out of sorts she felt in Wales without Howl to guide her. How _had_ he done it? He'd come into an entirely foreign world and had somehow managed to do quite well for himself. Sophie wasn't even sure where to begin, and she was only trying to find her husband in a pub.

"Oh, for goodness sake," she muttered, exasperated.

"Are you the mother of the little tyke?" said someone from behind Sophie. She whipped around and saw that it was a young woman, around her own age, wearing a neat black dress with an apron over it. Sophie nodded. "They're in the loo. The little one seems to have had a bit of an accident and Dad's cleaning him up." Sophie snorted. It served him right. The girl chuckled. "I'll seat you over here while you wait," she said, and led Sophie over to a round table near the window. There was a bar a ways off to the right with a couple of magic boxes like the ones she'd seen at Megan's house hanging above it near the ceiling. They were showing images of the same game that she and Howl had just left. There were a couple men as well who would pop into view periodically to discuss the match. Sophie held her breath, fearing that they would mention how suspiciously Wales had suddenly won. But the men made no such comment; rather, they were repeatedly showing various bits of the game again and again and rehashing exactly what some player or another had done. They didn't mention foul play at all. Sophie sighed in relief.

She looked around the rest of the pub. It was filled with quite a few people, most of whom had a glass of beer in hand, a number of whom seemed to be rather drunk. The magic box was once more showing the stadium and this time it was the crowd singing "Sosban Fach" again while the team celebrated their victory. A group of men in the corner were swaying back and forth and heartily adding in the "hoy hoys." When it came to the bit about the All Blacks, they became quite loud, drowning out the voices from the magic box.

Howl emerged from the bathroom holding Morgan's hand; Morgan looked much happier than he had in the past hour while Howl looked a bit put out. "I had to use a drying spell on him," he complained as he took the chair next to Sophie. "We'd better hope nobody spotted your bit of magic back there—this'll only make us easier to track down." He flagged down the girl in the apron and ordered some food over the din coming from the men in the corner.

"I still don't understand that song," said Sophie, eyeing them. "It doesn't make a whit of sense from what you've told me."

"Well I didn't exactly explain it very well," he replied. "It translates to something like, uh, let's see," he looked toward the ceiling, clearly working out the translation in his head. "Well, Mary-Anne has hurt her finger, and David the servant is sick, the baby is crying in the cradle, and the cat has scratched little Johnny. There's a little saucepan boiling on the fire, and a bigger saucepan boiling on the floor. Now, verse two. Now Mary-Anne is better, but the servant has died, the baby is grown up, and the cat has gracefully lived out its life. And there's the little saucepan on the fire and the big saucepan on the floor." Howl looked down, his translating done. "The bit about the All Blacks is something else, we beat them in a game about, oh, fifteen years ago? Sixteen? Never mind, we're very proud of it." He smiled.

Sophie stared back at him. "What does any of that have to do with…any of that? Especially the saucepan bit."

Howl shrugged. "Ah look! Lunch is here," he said as the girl in the apron arrived carrying a plate piled high with food.

* * *

As Howl settled the bill, Sophie gazed through the window at a quite beautiful sunset. "It gets dark so early here," she remarked. "I don't think it will be dark in Ingary for a few hours yet."

"We're further north," said Howl distractedly. He turned to Morgan. "Now, little man, let's visit the bathroom before we leave. I'll not be repeating our earlier incident on the way home."

"But I don't need to go _now_ , dad!" whined Morgan.

"Too bad," replied Howl. "I'm not willing to take the risk." He towed Morgan across the pub toward the gents.

Sophie was still pondering the saucepan song. It really made quite little sense, she thought, but it had to mean something. She knew quite a number of nonsense songs from Ingary, but if you got to the bottom of them, _they_ all meant something, even if it wasn't immediately apparent. The saucepan song must mean something too. "Excuse me," she said to the girl in the apron as she returned to collect the bill. "Do you happen to speak Welsh?"

"Sure," replied the girl. "Why?"

"Could you tell me, in that saucepan song, what are the actual words when they sing the bit about the All Blacks? I can never seem to make them out, and my husband's no good at explaining these things."

"The bit like this?" the girl asked, and started singing the tune of the All Blacks portion, but with different words.

" _Dai bach y sowldiwr, Dai bach y sowldiwr,_

_Dai bach y sowldiwr, a chwt ei grys e mas_."

"Yes," said Sophie. "What does it mean?"

"It's just saying, 'Little Dai the soldier, his shirt tail is hanging out.'"

Sophie frowned. She thought this section would somehow make things clearer, but it was just as confusing as the rest of it. "Thank you," she said absently to the girl.

"You have to view it as before and after, if you're confused," said the girl. "Like a 'that was then, this is now,' sort of thing. You'll get it." She smiled, collected the bill and left, leaving Sophie to puzzle over the song. Perhaps she'd ask Calcifer when they got home. He would understand it. Howl returned with Morgan in tow, and together they all returned to the car.

As Howl started the ignition, Sophie felt herself clutching the sides of her seat again. "Relax, love," said Howl as he pulled out onto the highway. "For all my slapdash ways, I'm actually a rather good driver." He reached his left hand over and, prying her right hand off the seat cushion, clasped it in his own. He stroked his thumb across her knuckles as he drove one handed, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "See? Not a bump." Sophie relaxed fractionally, but tensed up again when she glanced out the window. It all sped by so _quickly_. "Keep your eyes on the road in front of you," said Howl, noticing her anxiety. "When you look at the car in front of us it doesn't seem like we're moving so very fast at all."

"You're right," she said, "but tricking my eyes doesn't seem make my stomach forget."

Howl chuckled. "You could always just order yourself not to get carsick," he said slyly.

"Oh, Howl, you know that was a mistake!" Sophie blushed and relinquished his hand. "I'm horribly embarrassed about it."

"Sophie, it wouldn't have truly been an outing with you if you _hadn't_ done something outrageous. Let's just be thankful it wasn't something disastrous."

"Oh, you—" Sophie smacked his arm unthinkingly, and then gasped as she waited for the car to careen off the road. It didn't.

"See? Good driver," said Howl pleasantly. "But let's not get in the habit of knocking me about. We wouldn't want to court those said disasters, after all."

Sophie huffed and glowered out the window. It was practically dark outside, and she found the speed of the vehicle more bearable if she couldn't see the landscape whipping by. Wales was actually rather nice, she thought, at least when it wasn't pouring rain, like it had been on two of her previous visits. And provided they didn't spend the entire time visiting with Megan's family, as they also had been doing those times. Sophie peered up at the stars through her window. There seemed to be so few of them here, but they were so strange. She couldn't find any of the familiar constellations. Maybe that was just how other worlds were, she thought. Beautiful, and totally incomprehensible.

As though he could read her mind, Howl began to hum the saucepan song in a low voice. It was softer and sweeter than the renditions she'd heard throughout the day and much more like the version Calcifer sang at home. That was another beautiful but incomprehensible thing, she thought. She had always thought the melody to be rather nice, and the way Howl sung it now, it sounded sweet and low as a lullaby. Howl was another one of those things, she thought as she glanced at him sitting beside her, his eyes focused on the road stretching out before him. She knew she loved him dearly, but sometimes, he made no sense at all. Seeing him in Wales was like seeing him upside-down and backwards. Howl was still Howl, but something about him changed. He felt…different, in several ways. Certain parts of him felt out of focus, while other bits clicked into place. Maybe it was Wales. It confused a person, being in another world.

Before long, Howl was pulling the car into its shed and extracting the now sound-asleep Morgan from the car seat. Sophie reached up and took Howl's hand as they quietly walked up the garden path. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand back before releasing her to open the door into the castle.

"Well, how was it?" Calcifer zoomed out of the fireplace to hover curiously before the two of them.

"Hush, Calcifer, you'll wake Morgan," scolded Sophie softly. "We'll tell you in a moment."

Calcifer grumbled to himself, but settled down among his logs to wait as Sophie and Howl put Morgan to bed. Sophie tucked a stray lock of hair away from Morgan's face as he slept and leaned her head on Howl's shoulder. "Thank you," she said to Howl softly.

"For what?" He turned to her in the twilit room. In Ingary, it was only dusk.

"For taking me to Wales," she murmured back. "I like learning about where you're from. Though it's good to be home again," she smiled, turning to Morgan. She was more tired than she'd thought. She could feel her eyes drifting closed as she leaned against Howl's shoulder. "Howl?" she asked, stirring the silence.

"Mmm?" he replied. It seemed he was nearly as tired as she was.

"I think I understand the saucepan song."

"Do you, now?" he said, turning his head toward her.

"It's not about saucepans at all, is it?"

Howl gave a soft, rumbling laugh. "No, not really."

"It's about coming home," she said. She didn't know if it was the anxious drive home, or seeing Calcifer at the door, or watching Morgan as he slept. But everything about the song clicked into place. "And about time passing," she added.

Howl nodded and kissed the top of her head. "Of course, love. The baby may grow up, the servant might pass away, old injuries heal, but some things are always the same, no matter how far away you go and how long it takes to return. It used to be in Wales that every house always had a little saucepan on the fire and a big one on the floor. Some things are constant."

Sophie thought back to her early days in the castle. She understood. Michael may have moved out, Calcifer was free, and Morgan was steadily growing up. She was no longer an old woman and Howl had proved himself to be rather soft-hearted, underneath everything. But she also knew she would always come home to the same castle, the same fire-demon in the hearth, and the same husband to love her until she became an old woman again. Some things were constant. She pressed her hand against Howl's chest, right above where his heart was, and tilted her head up for a kiss. Howl leaned down to oblige her, and their lips met softly.

"Are you two going to be all night? You still haven't told me about today!" Calcifer was hovering in the threshold, his blue face casting and eerie glow into the room. Sophie sighed and rested her forehead on Howl's chest.

"Alright, old blue-face," he said. "We'll be there in a minute."

He stood and held out both his hands to Sophie, helping her to her feet, and twined one arm about her waist as they followed Calcifer downstairs. "So," said Calcifer, "what was it like? Did you go anywhere else? You were gone all day!"

"Well," said Howl, "Morgan had an accident, Sophie nearly had a heart attack when I drove a hair over the limit, and Wales won, but only because Sophie rigged the game."

"Oh! You're impossible!" Sophie said, wriggling out of his embrace.

"We also spent a good amount of time debating saucepans," Howl smirked as he plopped onto the couch. "You know it took her all day to puzzle out the meaning?"

"I would have been faster if my translator had been any good," she huffed. "And for all my trouble, I still haven't figured out what in the world that song's got to do with rugby!"

"I've never figured that out either, Sophie," said Calcifer. "I stopped worrying about it years ago. Now tell me about Wales, properly. Howl's no good at that sort of thing."

Howl laughed, and pulled Sophie onto the couch with him. Against her better judgment, she curled up against him, leaning her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating. She smiled.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> For this little story, I did a bit of research into both the song “Sosban Fach” and rugby as a sport, neither of which I knew very much about. “Sosban Fach” is, of course, Calcifer’s “silly little saucepan song” from _Howl’s Moving Castle_. When I first looked it up, I was just about as puzzled as Sophie was in the beginning of this story. The lyrics didn’t make any sense to me! But after some careful googling, I came upon a few resources that helped explain it to me. The first was[ this article](https://elcrain.wordpress.com/tag/sosban-fach/) (https://elcrain.wordpress.com/tag/sosban-fach/) where the author explains a bit about the meaning of “Sosban Fach,” which really helped me understand the song better. The [Wikipedia entry](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sosban_Fach) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sosban_Fach ) for “Sosban Fach” is also rather useful and gives a rough translation into English.
> 
> You can also listen to a few different versions of the song:
> 
> [Alastair James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYYUAib5EWo) gives an energetic and modern rendition which puts one in mind of modern sports stadiums: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYYUAib5EWo
> 
> There’s also [this version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aiebnr0oQD0) being sung at one of the Scarlet’s home games at Strady stadium to give you an idea how it’s sung at games. You can even hear them do the “All Blacks” version of the lyrics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aiebnr0oQD0
> 
> Lastly, there’s also a lovely, more folk-inspired version by Cerys Matthews, which is my personal favorite. [This video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rll5jIJ7DD0) pairs her lovely voice with some clips of Calcifer from the movie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rll5jIJ7DD0
> 
> I also took some inspiration from a few other various sources. For Howl’s initial, slapdash translation of the song, I borrowed a bit from one of Cerys Matthew’s own explanations from a live show, [seen here:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-TgTPv8brI) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-TgTPv8brI. As for the regimental goat, that was something I stumbled upon while researching “Sosban Fach” and couldn’t resist borrowing. [Read this article](https://movehimintothesun.wordpress.com/tag/sospan-fach/) for the story…it’s pretty funny! https://movehimintothesun.wordpress.com/tag/sospan-fach/
> 
> Upon researching the regimental goat further, I found out one of the current goats is named Shenkin and that Shenkin is the Welsh version of Jenkins! According to [Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_mascot), (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_mascot) the goat wasn’t actually called Shenkin until about 1994, which, assuming _Howl’s Moving Castle_ takes place in the 1980s when the book was written, would be after this visit to Wales…but the opportunity was too good to pass up! If you also want to learn more about regimental goats, I highly recommend reading [this article](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Windsor_%28goat%29) on a different goat named William Windsor…it’s probably one of the funniest and most bizarre things I’ve encountered all week: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Windsor_%28goat%29
> 
> As for the rugby, well, I attempted to do research, but found the whole tournament system associated with it to be rather incomprehensible for an outsider. So the rugby final is totally fictional. I also did practically no research into the game, since I figured if Sophie didn't need to understand the rules then neither did I. The only bit I actually looked into was about extra time and sudden death. If I've gotten it all wrong, you can feel free to point it out, but I'm honestly not bothered about it at all.
> 
> And as for what "Sosban Fach" actually has to do with rugby, I recommend reading the first Wikipedia article. Like many mascots, it basically has some local significance.
> 
> The Welsh is from Wikipedia, as are the rough translations.
> 
> And lastly, _Howl's Moving Castle_ belongs to Diana Wynne Jones and her surviving family. I just really wanted to write a story where they went to a rugby match, and I intend to make no profit off of this work.
> 
> And that's it for me! I hope you enjoyed this sprawling one-shot, and leave me a review if you feel like it! Cheers!


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